


Too Much to Handle

by sugarmoons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, pre fifth year, resolved in second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarmoons/pseuds/sugarmoons
Summary: Sometimes Draco hates being the boyfriend to the boy-who-lived. Harry's prophecy was more of a curse and his own relationship with his parents had begun to thin. Sometimes it was too much. Sometimes he needs a break.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

Harry and Draco had been arguing on and off the entirety of their summer break. Over trivial things such as whether or not pumpkin pasties tasted good or not and more serious things like Draco’s straining relationship with his parents and Harry’s prophesied doom.

Sometimes it got too much to handle and it didn’t matter what time it was. There needed to be some degree of space between them/

“I’m leaving,” Draco said, grabbing his coat of the hook near the door.

Harry bit back with a bitter reply, “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do. Merlin forbid Draco Malfoy got his hands dirty.”

Draco turned around to see Harry leaning against the doorframe at the end of the lobby, hair disheveled and pyjamas wrinkled. They were all stressed but Harry never used to show it as clearly as he did now. With purple bags under his eyes and chapped lips.

War did these things though. Cedric dying. Voldemort rising. Harry decaying. 

All Draco wanted was to be free of what he had run from. To be more than he was raised to be. To finally be with his boyfriend, despite the trials that came with loving the wizarding world’s crowned saviour.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded.

Harry scoffed, “Don’t do what? Where are you even going?”

“Somewhere where I’m not being dragged into a war every two minutes, we are fifteen Harry, we deserve more than this.”

And maybe they did. Maybe if they’d be born a decade later or a century before they would have had it easier. 

“There is no ‘more than this’. This is all we’ve got and I’m not going to lose it because I refuse to fight.”

Draco could feel the tears begin to well in his eyes, everything was too much. What happened to growing up? Why couldn’t they be arguing over something small, like whether or not they wanted to go to hogsmeade on their first week back or their second?

“Come with me,” he all but begged, “Lets run away to France or America or fucking Antarctica. We have magic! We only need to wait two years till we can use it freely and then we really will be utterly free.”

Harry made his way down the hall, the legs of his checked pajamas trailing behind him. He didn’t break his eye contact with Draco once.

“And what of everyone else? I’m meant to be some bloody hero, Draco,” Harry cried, “I can’t just leave. I’m not you for fucks sake. I’m not a coward  


Draco shook his head, “Yeah, well at least I know what I’m worth,” he spat, “When you realise that everyone is using you send me an owl.”

And with that he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him. A movement that rippled through the entire building, shaking the ancient chandeliers and causing the paintings on the walls to shiver.

Harry fell to the floor, leaned against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. Was every relationship in his life going to be like that? A complete mess that ends with an argument he’s helpless in stopping. 

It wasn’t even that he couldn’t see Draco’s point of view, he would hate it if Draco was meant to save everyone whilst he himself was disintegrating under the pressure. He was just so angry at the idea that Draco was leaving him alone to deal with it. Hermione and Ron were great, they just couldn’t relieve his stress with a secret snog in a broom closet before sixth period. He also felt better talking to Draco than he did talking to Ron and Hermione. Neither of them had had their entire lives prepared for one thing. They were free to choose their fate and Harry harboured so much underlying jealousy because of that. Draco was different, he was brought up to be a perfect pureblood, rules and all.

He didn’t move from his spot for the rest of the night, instead he wallowed. Sometimes the best medicine was a pity party. Regardless of the patheticness. Who really cared? There was a high chance that he’d die once he reached seventeen, he should be able to spend his time how he pleased.

-

“Harry,” he was awoken by the sound of Molly’s voice and slight nudging, “Harry wake up, dear.”   
His eyes squinted at the sun that shined through the unshut curtains. The first thing he looked at was the hooks beside the door, Draco’s coat was still gone, the absence left an ache in his lungs.

Molly must have noticed his off mood because she didn’t push him for answers like she usually would. Though he suspected she already knew what had occurred last night, from hearing them or pure motherly intuition. She told him to clean up and come to breakfast when he was ready before walking back towards the kitchen to appease the rest of the house's needs. He didn’t move for a good few minutes. Instead he chose to stare at the door, hoping that Draco would come through it any second with a sorry on his tongue. Harry would gladly return it as long as he said it first.

But Draco didn’t return so he pulled himself up and went to get dressed. His mind filled to the brim with worry, concerns and anger. 

-

The day dragged on with no sign of Draco. They had a week till they returned to Hogwarts and if he didn’t come back to Grimmauld Place before then, he’d either betrayed them or decided that loving the boy-who-lived was too much hassle.

“Harry.” Hermione had been trying to console him all day with no prevail. She never did like Draco. Not many people managed after how he behaved from first to third year. An apology only got one foot in the door, the other got to come in once they had proven themselves truly reformed.

Draco spent more time trying to one up Hermione in potions, leading to a rather competitive relationship that was comfortably neutral. Harry left them to it because it was better than the tension between him and Ron which had led to a continued sharing of hexes between classes.

“Hermione,” Harry mimicked back, he elongated the ‘ee’ sound in the hope she'd scrunch her nose in frustration.

She rolled her eyes in return, “He’ll be back for dinner tonight. He’s just tired of this life and to be fair he’s not used to constant fear like the rest of us.”

No, he’s used to constant responsibility and the burden of his family's legacy. He lived on a different ledge, one that if he fell off, he’d be hanged in hell for it. 

A long sigh spilled from Harry’s lips, “If he can’t handle it now, how's he going to handle it when he’s put right on the chopping block. You and Ron were eleven when you got hauled into one of my life threatening escapades-”   


We kind of all rushed into that one, mate” Ron interrupted, looking up from his chessboard. It had been spelled so that one could play alone and Ron had been at it for what felt like hours.

“- doesn’t really matter either way though. You would never have been in the line of fire if it wasn’t for me. You’d be living an average wizarding life, where your biggest worry was trying not to get your head ripped off by Snape for forgetting potions homework.”

Ron shrugged, sometimes his nonchalance drove Harry up the wall. He was good at masking his real fears, replacing them with fussing over spiders or whining over some girl that would never look at him twice. Harry was desperate for that kind of ability, everyone always seemed to know when something was up with him. Partly due to his scar burning every time a certain dark wizard was involved.

“Look, when the prat comes back, because he will come back - he looks at you like you’re made of pure gold - you’ll have some big apology between the two of you and it will be fine,” Ron reassured him, “You’re both too crazy about each other for it to be over with a single argument.”

Except it wasn’t a single argument. It was  _ the  _ argument. The one that is written about in books and acted out in movies. It’s the final stand between the crumbling couple and they never glue the pieces back together. 

“Just wait Harry,” Hermione added, “It’s not over until one of you is dead.”

Harry didn’t make the joke that he could be gone by tomorrow. Kidnapped by death eaters and presented to Voldemort like a prized pig. 


	2. Chapter 2

When dinner arrived at Grimmauld Place Harry wasn’t sure if Hermione was right this time. Draco wasn’t a transfiguration essay or a new spell. He was a boy. And Hermione was never as smart with boys as she was with academics. Harry had just hoped that this time her assumptions were correct and that Draco was going to walk through the door at any minute.

He slid into his chair and slumped over, shoulders hunched, head low. When he was offered food he took the bare minimum. He wasn’t very hungry. Which was a red flag on its own, because after years with the Dursley’s he always accepted food as if it would be his last meal. 

Ron nudged him, “You need to eat at least.”

Harry shrugged then sat up,” I will.”

He picked at his potatoes and ate a few carrots.

His hope dwindled as time passed. Dinner was a long affair with the Weasley’s, filled with warmth and cosiness that Harry had craved for when he was younger. He generally savoured it, but tonight he just wanted it to go away. For the cold to consume him instead of the heat that was heavy on his chest. 

No one really bothered him, though he could feel their eyes. Molly had obviously said something to all of them before he’d pulled himself downstairs. He’d been taking another crack at The Tales of Beedle and Bard but found the story reminded him too much of a conversation he had shared with Draco a few weeks prior.

They’d been talking about something or another and Harry had brought up a muggle fairytale, the little mermaid to be precise. Draco had found the tale preposterous, “mermaids aren’t beautiful.”, “How did she think she was going to communicate if she couldn’t speak? Can’t she write?”, “if she died in the end what was the point?”.

Harry didn’t know how to explain that the point was that you’d do anything for those you love, even if it meant enduring horrifying pain for someone who barely knew you. But it felt too soon to say anything properly about love and now he regretted not saying it sooner. 

Afterwards Draco went on a ramble about various wizarding tales and Harry soaked up each one. There was something romantic about just listening to someone regardless of what they were saying, you weren’t there for the content, you were there for them and them alone was enough. If Draco came back he would be enough. Despite their argument.

Harry ate a bit more, a few mouthfuls of Molly’s perfect steak pie and a couple of potatoes. It didn’t make him feel much better but now he had something to blame on the heaviness in his gut.

His hope was on its last threads when he heard the creak of the front door opening. Like dominos everyone's heads turned to the kitchen door. 

The only person who was surprised when Draco walked in, out of breath and pink in the face, was Harry. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he puffed, “But can I speak to Harry for a moment.”

Harry stared at Draco as if he was a ghost, it took him a minute to register what the blond had said before he excused himself from the table and walked with Draco silently down the hall and into one of the drawing rooms.

Draco stayed standing as Harry threw himself on a sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and burrowed his head into his hands.

“First of all before you say anything, fuck you.”

“Guess I deserve that,” Draco settled, though he continued on fighting for the last word “But so do you. Fuck you Harry Potter and your bloody high horse.”

Frustration bubbled under Harry’s skin whilst he allowed a scream to die in his throat. They would not make a scene with everyone only a few rooms over. It was truly amazing how his desperation fizzled out so easily when Draco walked through the door. Now it was replaced with the anger from last night that had left enough sparks to be relit.

“You can’t just leave. I didn’t know where the hell you were, do you know how scary that is?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic I was gone for a night.”

“You went acting as if you were never coming back so don’t make me out to be some worrying twat. You can’t just walk out!” Harry’s voice slowly began to get louder, “You can’t do that no matter how shitty I’m being because we’re in the middle of a fucking war regardless of what Fudge says!”

There it was. The root of their arguing, their worries. The brewing war that they had no control over. And if they couldn’t control that they’d try and control something else. But that something else didn’t want to be controlled either. Everything was a losing battle before they even started it. There was too much going on and it was all too much to put on the shoulders of teenagers. A prophecy shouldn’t dictate how a war is handled, especially not one with zero specifics and various flowy words.

“Sit down,” Harry demanded, “For the love of everything holy sit down and at least make it look like you aren’t going to run out the front door the next chance you get.”

Draco obeyed, pulling his denim jacket off his shoulders and slinging it on the sofa behind him. There was around five inches of space between them. 

They took a quick breather before Draco decided to defend himself, neither of them was in the right and Harry wasn’t allowed to believe that he was on higher ground, “You can’t get mad next time I get tired of the danger that surrounds you. I didn’t grow up with the fear of death looming around every corner.”

“Neither did I,” Harry quipped back, “You adjust, trust me.”

Draco looked away, lips pursed, “I don’t want to adjust. I want to be safe.”

“There’s no safe right now, we’re just more aware than we should be.”

They couldn’t decide if ignorance was really bliss. Harry was desperate to understand the situation because no matter what happened he would be in the middle of it and Draco wanted to know so he could support Harry as well as concoct solutions behind his oblivious boyfriends back with his rather bright best friend.

The gap between them was smaller now. Draco had shuffled closer when he was defending his side of the argument and Harry had moved subconsciously. Like opposite magnets they always seemed to attract.

“I’m sorry for walking out,” Draco apologised first. Letting go of his stubbornness in order to clear the air. 

And just as he promised himself Harry replied, “I’m sorry too, for not taking how you feel into account.”

Draco didn’t give Harry a chance before he threw his arms over the Gryffindor’s broad shoulders. 

“You’re such a fucking prick.” His voice was quiet but the message was clear. It was as close to an ‘I love you’ either of them was going to get whilst they navigated everything else that was going on.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happier with the second part than I was with the first part. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> If you can give me a kudos or a comment it is greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a mess and even tho I've went through it I'm still unsure if it's any better. Still I've written it so it's going up.
> 
> Part two will hopefully be up in the next couple of days so look out for that. In the mean time though give me some feedback, it is such good encouragement to continue writing and to improve. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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